


Morning Arthur

by trickylinguistics



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Hair, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-02
Updated: 2011-10-02
Packaged: 2017-10-24 06:16:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/260022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trickylinguistics/pseuds/trickylinguistics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames has never seen Arthur first thing in the morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning Arthur

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Do not own! All characters belong to the wonderful Christopher Nolan.
> 
> Written for a prompt that can be found [here](inception-kink.livejournal.com/19177.html?thread=45450217#t45450217). This fic also available on my [LiveJournal](http://kensei-takezo.livejournal.com/9479.html).

Arthur pressed his face into Eames’ neck, his eyelashes fluttering against his skin as his eyelids fell shut. He hummed softly, contentedly, as Eames’ arms came to wrap around his slim body.

“What time is it?” Arthur murmured, his voice partly muffled as his lips pressed against the flesh of a shoulder. He couldn’t be bothered to lift his head and look at the clock himself.

“Just past midnight, love,” Eames answered, looking down at Arthur fondly.

“I really--“ Arthur yawned suddenly, the rest of his sentence falling away. “I really should be going...it’s late...”

“Oh, is that so?” Eames smiled, knowing full well by how limp Arthur was that he wouldn’t be able to move; he was almost asleep. “Well, okay. Off you go.”

Arthur furrowed his brow, his eyes remaining closed as he said, “In a minute. Just gonna...rest my eyes a minute longer. You’re comfy.”

Eames chuckled and said, “Arthur, you’re far too tired. Why don’t you just stay the night?”

Arthur finally opened his eyes and sat up part way, looking at Eames with sleepy eyes.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “We’ve never really...done that.” He yawned again, squinting as he struggled to keep his gaze fixed on Eames.

“You can barely keep your eyes open, love,” Eames said, reaching forward to cradle Arthur’s head back against his chest, running his hand through the smooth locks. “Besides, I think it’s about time we took that step, don’t you?”

“Mm,” Arthur mumbled in agreement, the tips of his fingers tracing small circles against Eames’ bare abdomen. He smiled as he felt a kiss being pressed to the top of his head. “G’night.”

“Good night, Arthur.”

\---

When Eames woke up, Arthur was no longer pressed snugly up against him; he had drifted off to the corner of the bed, curled up on his side.

It was still rather dark, being only just past six and the drapes blocking the beginnings of morning light from entering the room. Eames yawned and plodded off to the bathroom, his hand scaling the wall to find his way.

“Eames?” He heard his name called from the other room as he brushed his teeth.

“Just brushing my teeth, Arthur,” Eames replied. “I’ll be out in a moment.”

Eames spat into the sink, rinsed his mouth, and returned to the bedroom, turning on the light now that he knew Arthur was awake.

“How did you sle—bloody hell!” Eames staggered backwards as he laid eyes on Arthur – ‘morning Arthur’ – for the first time. “What – what’s that on your head?”

Arthur’s hands went to his head, and his fingers caught in his hair.

“Oh.” Arthur bit his lip. “Oh, right...”

“Oh, _right_. Your hair is – is –“

“Massive?”

Eames nodded fervently, his eyes unable to look anywhere other than the large, bushy curls that took over the space of Arthur’s head.

“But your hair, it isn’t normally like...like... _that_!” Eames stammered.

Arthur frowned and asked, “Do you hate it?”

Eames shook himself out of his stupor and said, “No, Arthur, of course not. It’s just...so big. And I’m used to your hair being all...” Eames gestured with his hands. “Smooth.”

“Amazing, isn’t it, what a little hair product can do?” Arthur smirked. “Are you sure you don’t hate it?”

Eames walked up to the edge of the bed where Arthur sat, and wrapped his fingers around the large curls. He pressed his face into the mess of hair and chuckled, pulling away and grinning at Arthur.

“I think I might love it, actually,” Eames said, pulling Arthur onto his feet and into his arms, burying his face once more into his shaggy locks. “Mmm.”

“Now what?” Arthur laughed softly.

Eames pulled away and cupped Arthur’s cheek, smiling conspiratorially.

“Now,” he murmured, “I’m wondering if I can make your hair even more of a mess than it already is.”

Arthur’s cheeks tinged the faintest shade of pink, his dimples making an appearance as a grin graced his face.

“Care to find out, Mr. Eames?”

END.


End file.
